


Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

by zenonaa



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: 'Bringing the pick to the strings, she began clawing at them. Their vibrations screeched, silenced by the pick’s next drag and how she lightly punched the strings with the side of her fist, stopping and resuming abruptly. Discordant, like cries for help. The noise made me wince.“Right now, this is what Hajime-chan’s like,” she said, keeping her hand still now. “All jumpy and jumbled, like the biggest, jumpiest jumble Ibuki has ever met. And Ibuki has used some really cheap, hard-to-wash-out hairspray in her lifetime.”'Ibuki and Hajime put on a concert.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Mioda Ibuki
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Path to our Future: Hajime Hinata zine! It was my first time writing for a zine and I enjoyed the experience a lot. :-) 
> 
> 707kuroyuki drew some gorgeous art to go with it, which I will post at the end of the fic WHEN they've had a chance to post it on their social media.
> 
> Despite the fic name, this is platonic. I do, however, love the band 'Queen'.

Mioda had taken me halfway across the island and she still hadn’t told me where we were headed. However, as I stumbled on the pavement on Jabberwock’s third island, with its cracks like spiderwebs and my arm straining toward dislocation as she pulled me along, my hand trapped in hers, I had a hunch.

Still not letting go of my hand, she swung a kick forward and forced the doors of Titty Typhoon open with a bang... not that they had even been locked.

“You should have heard Ibuki when she found out we had a whole freaking music house!” Mioda said. She flung her arms up, so by extension, one of my arms soared upward too.

A wide grin puffed out her rosy cheeks as she surveyed the gritty interior. To our right was a bar, fitted with neon lights spelling English words. Mioda must have already been here because a drum kit sat on the stage, accompanied by her guitar nearby, all ready to be used. 

By far, Mioda was the brightest thing in the hall, with her vibrantly dyed hair, piercings that light glimpsed off and the way her body hummed with energy with every movement.

So unashamedly herself... I couldn’t help but admire that.

While I looked around, Mioda widened her stance. She swooped down, finally releasing my hand, and peered through the gap between her legs.

“Whoa! Did you notice the floor is the same as the ceiling? This gives Ibuki an idea... for our concert, we could tots have everything reversed,” she said. Her long hair piled on the floor, dangling past her head. “Nekomaru-meow-meow could throw us up, and we could swipe glue onto the ceiling and stick chairs there, and - ”

I raised my hands. “H-Hold on. Our concert?”

Emphasis on ‘our’. Mioda straightened, flicking her hair back.

“Oh! Did Ibuki forget to say?” 

She pressed the pads of her index fingers against her temples and began garbling nonsense until she jerked her chin up. In hindsight, she had been speaking backward.

“Hajime-chan! Ibuki decided we’ve played enough and it’s time for us to perform!” Mioda thrust up a finger. “Tonight!”

By ‘played’, she meant the various activities meant to jog my memory in a very abstract-Mioda way, such as banging a drum kit and screaming until we passed out. I stared at her.

“But I can’t play any instruments,” I said. “Not even the drums, which I’m sure does require skill to play well.”

Mioda scoffed with a ‘pshh’ noise. She strutted toward the stage, hoisted herself up and grabbed her guitar, resting it on her lap.

“Hajime-chan! Come here!” she said, her legs hanging over the edge of the stage.

I shuffled over. Mioda watched my approach.

“Closer,” she insisted, motioning, and I ended up right in front of her. She reached a hand forward and placed it against my chest. I tensed. Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t say anything, her lips pursed in concentration.

After several seconds passed, she withdrew her hand. Mioda reached behind her ear, where she revealed a guitar pick that had been tucked away there, and adjusted her grip on the neck of her guitar with her other hand. 

Bringing the pick to the strings, she began clawing at them. Their vibrations screeched, silenced by the pick’s next drag and how she lightly punched the strings with the side of her fist, stopping and resuming abruptly. Discordant, like cries for help. The noise made me wince.

“Right now, this is what Hajime-chan’s like,” she said, keeping her hand still now. “All jumpy and jumbled, like the biggest, jumpiest jumble Ibuki has ever met. And Ibuki has used some really cheap, hard-to-wash-out hairspray in her lifetime.”

I blinked, mouth ajar. Mioda seemed unperturbed by my lack of reaction though. She smiled softly without showing teeth and resumed strumming, but differently. The chords cried out, but they weren’t strangled, not pained like the rasps that had shrieked moments ago.

“Bad-dum... Bad-dum,” Mioda half-said, half-sang. Unlike how she usually sang though, she didn’t scream. Didn’t howl. “This is Ibuki’s heart... Ibuki may seem carefree, but when she dwells too much on friends no longer here, she gets so sad. But they wouldn’t want Ibuki to be sad, so Ibuki puts her feelings into her songs. People come and go, but music is permanent and they can live on through music. Like one time, Ibuki saw a band perform, and they all died in a plane crash the next week. But their music... their music and memories survived. They’re never really gone. You never know when the last time will be, so you’ve gotta make memories while you can.”

Mioda played a bit more before nodding at me.

“So... even if music isn't Hajime-chan’s talent, it can help deal with certain feelings,” she finished.

For a moment, she didn’t stir, but then she threw her head back and laughed, clutching her chest.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Mioda wiped a tear from her eye. “Sorry, Ibuki got so serious. Maybe this upside down concert is a bad idea. Hajime-chan should throw a custard pie and drop his pants so we flip over again and get the right way up.”

“It’s fine,” I assured her quickly with a small grin. “I think I understand... Okay, I’ll drum my feelings tonight.”

“Awesome! Let’s practice!”

So I sat at the drum kit, picked up the sticks and started beating them against the drums. Like how Ibuki had played the guitar after feeling my heartbeat, my tempo started uneven. Faster in some places, wavering in others. She watched me as she strummed, bouncing her head, and my beat developed as time went on. I found a beat I could stick to that felt in sync with me, and I practiced. I banged, and banged, fueled by a fire burning inside of me, and I practiced.

I practiced and practiced until evening fell upon me and I was peeking out from behind stage curtains. Everyone had gathered in the audience area, talking amongst themselves as they waited for the concert. 

“You ready, Hajime-chan?” asked Mioda. She slapped me on the shoulder. “You look ready!”

With that, Mioda referred to my outfit. I wore a silver reflective jacket, a black vest top over a long checkered shirt that made it seem like I wore a skirt, tight jeans and boots. Oh, and chains. Lots of them serving no actual purpose.

I knew she meant my outfit because my hunched shoulders and tight fists didn’t give the impression I was ready, I imagine. My face was stiff with makeup and I was too afraid to touch it in case I smudged any of it.

“One, two, yahoo! We’re ready,” said Mioda, raising a fist, and her other hand squeezed my shoulder. “Remember... play with your heart! Even if Hajime-chan’s scared, Ibuki will support you and make you feel brave like you do with Ibuki.”

On one hand, her complete faith in me made my insides quiver, but I managed a smile, touched I could do that for her.

“Thanks,” I said. “Break a leg.”

Mioda saluted. “That would hurt! Sir!”

I didn’t give that response much thought and took a deep breath. Eyes forward, I marched out, and the cloud of voices snuffed out as they noticed.

“No way! Big Sis Mioda really is contagious?” Saionji gasped, with no Koizumi to elbow her and scold her quietly.

“Welcome, welcome!” Mioda waved her arm, ignoring Saionji, while I sat at the drum kit. “We’re playing a new song, and if you all want to join in, do so!”

Souda scratched his head, pulling a face. “Uh... if it’s new, how can we? We don’t know the words.”

“It’s a piece you can just shout or make up the words for or whatever,” explained Mioda. “So long as it comes from the heart, it’s alright!”

“That sounds dreadful,” grumbled Komaeda, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

I thought he would have been all over this and frowned.

Mioda flourished her pick. “This is called ‘Can you hear us up there?’ One, two, three!”

She slashed her guitar strings, loud and fast from the get go. I started soon after and struck the drums. My head bobbed and ahead of me, Mioda hopped around, shouting and screaming names even as tears pricked her eyes.

Initially, everyone stared silently, but then Saionji yelled too. Nidai released a roar next, and soon the whole class was shouting. Even Kuzuryuu. Especially Kuzuryuu. Shouting for Hanamura, Togami, Koizumi and Pekoyama. At that moment, talented or not, we were the same.

I took my eyes off Owari, who was uncharacteristically bawling her eyes out, and glanced at Mioda, leaping about and screaming and crying.

Mioda had been right. Our friends... are never really gone. You never know when the last time will be, so you’ve got to make memories while you can. And this one? This one I don’t think I will forget, ever.


End file.
